


Haunted

by AlElizabeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU set Season One, after Episode One "Pilot". As if things weren't bad enough for Sam and Dean, a familiar ghost appears with the intent to harm the youngest Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted

Sam groaned as he tried to get comfortable.

He had kicked all the blankets down to the end of the bed, had even shoved the pillows onto the floor but still, he couldn't sleep.

He was just too hot.

He had practically begged Dean to turn the A/C on up full blast and after much grumbling, his brother had done so, but that did little to help.

Sam rolled over onto his stomach, his soaking hair flopping down onto his face, his skin beaded with sweat.

At first Dean had been worried it was a fever but after checking Sam's temperature with the trusty thermometer they kept in the First Aid kit, both brothers had been surprised to find that the younger of the two was not sick at all. In fact, the thermometer showed a perfect temperature.

Dean had suggested that it might be stress; after everything that had happened the past few days he didn't doubt that his sibling was just a little frazzled.

First their father disappears without a trace and then Sam's girlfriend dies in an apartment fire. If anyone had a reason to have frayed nerves, it was Sam Winchester.

Whether it was stress or not, Sam didn't feel any better. He didn't seem to be able to cool down, even when he stood under an icy shower for the better part of an hour.

Maybe he should go to the hospital.

Dean was certain that whatever was happening would pass. Besides, he had told Sam, there seemed to be nothing physically wrong with him. He didn't have a temperature or anything and if he went to see a doctor he'd probably get laughed out of the Emergency Room.

In the bed beside Sam's, Dean woke up and glanced at him.

"Any better?" he asked and Sam shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Jesus, Sam!" Dean exclaimed, "It's like a freezer in here! How could you not be cold?"

The younger brother pulled himself up, raking his bangs away from his face, "I don't know, Dean. I feel like I'm about to spontaneously combust or something."

Dean frowned. Sam did look bad. His face was pale and beaded with sweat; his hair was plastered to his head with it. His eyes were tired-looking, circled with dark rings.

"Why don't you take a shower again?" he suggested hopefully, "And I can go get some ice if you want."

Sam nodded, "Okay."

"Make sure you're still drinking water," Dean told his brother before grabbing the much-used ice bucket and stepping through the door.

Sam stood and grabbed his duffel bag, pawing through it to find something cool to wear; an old t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts would be great.

As he searched for his garments, Sam's hand brushed against the EMF detector he kept in his bag, jumping back when the device screeched loudly, its red lights flashing.

The young man turned around, ready to face the threat but saw nothing except the empty motel room.

Frowning, Sam grabbed his belongings before locking himself in the bathroom.

SPN

"Sam? Sam!" Dean called his brother's name frantically, tapping the younger man's cheek.

They had just gotten back to the motel room after having breakfast at the diner across the street when Sam had collapsed, duffel in hand.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, gripping his brother's shoulder.

Swearing loudly, Dean shoved his brother's duffel out of the way, flinching when the bag suddenly screeched and dim red lights began to shine through the green canvas.

"The hell?" Dean muttered and unzipped the duffel, pulling out Sam's EMF detector.

Dean stared at the device for a long moment, mesmerized. It was reacting as though there was a ghost right in front of it. But that was insane. There was no ghost. Dean would have known. The only thing in front of the detector was Sam.

Dean sneered, about to dismiss the EMF detector as broken, when he suddenly had an idea. He lowered it towards his brother and was shocked to see it becoming even more frantic- its lights flickered on and off; the screeching became shriller and shriller- the closer it came to the younger Winchester.

Dean quickly turned the device off and returned to his sibling. Sam was now coming around, panting and groaning in pain.

"Sam? Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked as he helped his brother sit up.

"What happened?" he asked wearily.

"You fainted like a girl," Dean answered, trying to joke.

"Too hot," Sam muttered and closed his eyes again.

"Oh no you don't," Dean chided, "Not until we get you into the Impala."

The older brother stood and grabbed his sibling beneath the armpits, hauling Sam to his feet.

"Why's my EMF detector out?" Sam asked when he looked around and spotted his open duffel and the device sitting atop it.

"I think you've got yourself a ghost, Sammy," Dean said.

The younger man looked at him blearily, confused and Dean sighed, "I'll explain once we're on our way to Bobby's."

"Bobby?" Sam asked, "Bobby Singer?"

Dean nodded, putting one arm across his brother's shoulders to help support him, "The very same."

Sam hummed, "Haven't seen him in years."

"I know," Dean replied, "But since we can't get a hold of Dad, I figured Bobby was our next best bet."

SPN

Sam's skin was burning.

He jerked upright in the car seat, crying out in pain and began clawing at his arms.

"SAM!" he barely heard Dean shout, "SAM! STOP IT!"

The young man cried out as Dean's fist connected with his face, knocking him unconscious and he slumped sideways in his seat, out cold.

SPN

"It's getting worse," Dean told Bobby quietly, holding his cell phone pressed against one ear as he drove.

Dean peered at his sleeping brother from the corner of his eye, his gaze automatically going to the long scratches along Sam's arms.

"I think I might know what's got the boy," the grizzled hunter said slowly.

"What?" Dean asked; he had told Bobby that there had been no sign of spirits of any kind around Sam at all; the only indication that this was the work of a ghost was the EMF detector.

"I think a spirit has attached itself to your brother," Bobby told him.

Dean frowned, switched his phone to the other ear and spoke again, "They can do that?"

"Mmhm," the veteran hunter muttered, "Usually it is someone the victim had a relationship with, good or bad. They have to be pretty powerful ghosts too, any spirit can haunt a house but it takes a certain type of spirit to haunt a living person. Do you know of anyone in yer brother's life who died recently?"

Dean's mouth opened in shock.

"Yeah… Yeah, I do," he answered quietly.

"Who?" Bobby asked.

"Sam's girlfriend from college."

There was a beat of silence before Bobby spoke again.

"Aw shit," he swore, "How'd she pass?"

"Fire," Dean answered shortly.

"Well, that explains how Sam's been feeling," Bobby grumbled, "Was she buried or cremated?"

Dean bit his lip, "There was nothing left of her to bury."

A second pause filled the space between the two phones and Bobby sighed, "This just got a whole lot more difficult."

SPN

"Sammy, drink some water," his brother pressed, holding a bottle of water out to him.

Sam took the offered beverage without comment and guzzled all of it in a long series of swallows.

"Feeling any better?" Dean asked, his expression concerned.

Sam shook his head. He was sitting on Bobby Singer's old brown couch, drenched through with sweat.

The older hunter and his brother stood in front of him, almost as though they were examining him.

"Is there anything of your girlfriend's that you kept?" Bobby asked now, "A trinket, a lock of hair, anything?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know! I don't!"

"Sam! Think, damn it! There has to be something!" Dean exclaimed, "You have to have something!"

Sam looked up at Dean tiredly, "How do you even know its Jess? Maybe its someone else… maybe it isn't even a ghost. Jess would never hurt me."

Bobby sighed, "I know you think that, and yer probably right… while she was alive… but sometimes, dying changes people. They get mad and want someone to blame for their death and it looks as though this girl is blaming you."

Sam looked from Bobby to Dean, eyes wet.

No, they were wrong. Jess would never try to hurt him. She loved him. And he loved her. He wouldn't believe it.

Sam stood shakily and shoved the two other hunters out of the way.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked as Dean made to grab for his brother's arm but missed.

"Away from the two of you," Sam muttered, "Jess wouldn't… She'd never do this!"

The young man looked up and staggered to a stop.

"Sam…" Dean said cautiously from behind him, "Sammy, back away."

Jess, there she was, standing not a foot from Sam. She looked just as she had when she had been alive, her wavy blonde hair trailing down her shoulders, her blue eyes expressive. She was wearing the same white t-shirt and pink panties she loved sleeping in- the ones she had died in- her feet bare.

"Jess?" Sam whispered and lifted a hand, "Jess?"

The dead girl took a step forward, the hardwood beneath her foot black as though charred by fire.

"Sam," the girl said, her voice thin and papery, and reached out towards him, "Hold me, Sam. I'm so cold."

The shotgun blast made the young man jump with fear and Jessica's form was dissolved before his eyes by the rock salt.

"JESS!" Sam cried, flinching when Dean's hand closed over his upper arm, pulling him backwards.

"That's not Jess!" Dean shouted, "Not anymore!"

"Get off of me!" Sam exclaimed, trying to shove his brother away, "Let me go!"

Sam pulled his arm free and crossed to the far side of the living room, panting and wiping his sopping bangs away from his face.

"Sam!" Dean snapped, "Listen to me! It's not really Jess! She's trying to kill you!"

Sam wasn't listening, he turned and called out his girlfriend's name, hoping- praying- Bobby hadn't scared her away for good.

He was rewarded with the sight of the young woman standing but inches away from him.

"Jess," he whispered, blind to the fact that her hair touching the wall was sending tongues of orange flame racing up to the ceiling.

SPN

Dean needed to act quickly and he needed to act now.

Instead of trying to pull his brother away from the ghost of his girlfriend, he turned his attention on Sam's duffel bag still sitting on the couch. He had insisted his brother bring it inside so that he could look for any keepsake he had from Jess but hadn't had a chance to go through it.

Bobby was keeping a close eye on Sam and Jessica's ghost, shotgun in hand, but Dean knew that he had only moments to spare before his brother was hurt.

Grabbing the duffel, Dean ripped open the zipper and upended the bag, dumping its contents onto the couch cushions.

"DEAN!"

The young man looked up to see Bobby thrown across the room to topple behind his desk as one of the ghost's pale hands settled on his brother's shoulder.

SPN

Sam smiled as Jess lifted her hand.

"I love you, Jess," he whispered.

The dead girl did not return the sentiment. She rested her hand, palm down on Sam's shoulder and smiled.

For a second, Sam felt as though he had been right- Jess wasn't going to hurt him, she would never hurt him- but then the pain started.

Sam cried out as his shoulder flared with agony where the dead girl's hand rested on it, a searing, blistering pain. He tried to step back but Jess moved with him, her feet charring the floor as she walked.

"Oh Sam," Jess murmured and raised her other hand to caress his cheek.

SPN

Dean tore his eyes away from the sight of his brother, focusing his attention on finding a possession of Jessica Moore's that Sam might not even have.

Sweeping Sam's clothes to one side, Dean caught sight of his brother's shaving kit, knife, First Aid Kit, an old pamphlet from Stanford… and a tiny origami crane.

The paper bird was about the size of a dime and made out of plain notebook paper. Eagerly, Dean ripped it open, nearly tearing it in two in his haste.

Inside was a hidden letter from Jess to Sam. Dean was certain that his brother didn't even remember he still had it.

Acting quickly, hearing his brother cry out in pain, Dean pulled his lighter from the pocket of his jeans and flicked the wheel to create a spark.

"Nooo!" a shriek came from the other side of the room and Dean turned to see Jessica's ghost vanish in a blizzard of embers.

Sam crumpled to the floor, unmoving and Dean rushed to his side, hissing in sympathy at the large burn on his shoulder. His brother's shirt was scorched, blackened while the skin beneath was an angry red, swollen and already beginning to blister. It would be painful as hell but Dean knew it could have been a lot worse.

"D-D'n?" he glanced at his brother's face when he heard Sam call his name.

Brushing his sibling's wet bangs back from his brow, Dean smiled, "Hey, Sammy."

"Jess… She's gone…" Sam asked, exhaustedly.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, Sammy."

He frowned when he saw tears form in his brother's eyes, "Aww Sammy, I'm sorry."

The younger brother shook his head, "Y-You were right. Wasn't her."

Dean sighed and carefully hugged his brother, smiling grimly when he felt his brother's arms wrap around his back.


End file.
